Puck — July 30, 1879 — page 7: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

PUCK. 327 PUCKS CONDENSED NOVELS. NEW SERIES, No. IV. NIP-AND-TUCK DAN; oR, LIFE AMONG THE HIGHLY AND LOWLY. of that title published in the Condensed from the thrill fl N.Y. We Girls” Compatniot.""} reekly By Mary Kate Brien O'BRIEN. Cuaprter I, “ Sugar and spice, And all things nice— That's what fair girls are made of.”"—Byron, HE was lovelier than a poet's dream. “Q) Eighteen summers had turned her curls to molten gold, had tinged with the blue of heaven her glorious orbs, and had ripened her form into the fection of wor ood. Ever upon her lips there beamed asmile. The children in the streets—aye, the very dogs knew that beneath that light blue bodice she wore beat a tender heart. Far and near was known and loved Agnes, the gold-beater's daughter. With her parents she lived in her modest home in Allen Street, and ofttimesshe had read the ‘ open sesame” to that home, beside the front door, “ Ring the first bell.” During the day she was the boss of a sewing-machine in a millinery establishment, and in the evening she would sit upon the front stoop and await the coming of her papa. When he arrived, she would clasp her arm in his, and together they would saunter to the evening re- ast. és It was eventide of a lovely day in the month of July, eighteen hundred and don’t give it away. On the stoop of her modest home stood Agnes, The last lingering rays of the setting sun lighted upon her golden tresses and her pearly complexion, Standing there she was a picture such as an artist would have yearned to place upon his canvas. At that moment a young man approached. His form was tall and well-built, his*features daintily chiseled, though in them and in his eyes dissipation had’ left its marks, He was faultlessly attired, from his snow-white tile to his highly-polished shoes. As he reached the stoop he gazed upon Agnes. Suddenly he drew forth his handkerchief, Agnes’s charming nasal organ seemed to need her care also, and she drew her handkerchief. He was about to speak, probably concerning the weather, when a strong voice behind him remarked: “Don’t you think you'd better move on? Say!” Without a word the young man raised his white hat for a moment and passed on. Those familiar with the aristocracy of New York would have recognized in that faultlessly at- tired young man Rupert Astor Stewart Vander- bilt Fromageit. 5 ‘ CHAPTER Il, Coxty;—1Ob, is it taffy that she gives to me? _ JaQuesi--Not s0, my boy, not sol They're choice ‘gum-drops. —Joxson. As Rupert’ Fromageit moved away, a young man adyanced to the stoop. It was Nip-and- Tuck Dan, the young man who had advised Rupert Fromageit to move. He was a fine youth, rather short and square in his figure, and tather spread out as to his face and nose, and rather cropped and reddish as to his hair, but his heart was in the right place. He was jn the livery stable business about a block away from the house of Agnes, and ever since he had met that charming maiden at a picnic du- ring the previous summer, he had been, so to speak, “mashed, dead gone, collapsed” on the maid, As he reached the stoop Agnes cried: “Oh, thank you, Dan!” “Can you sit down a minute ?”. asked Dan, “Why, yes,” said Agnes, sitting on the top step. Dan sat two or three steps below, fidgeting with his straw hat, which he moved round and round in his fingers, ‘You know that dance at Jones's Woods?" said he finally. “On Tuesday? Oh, yes," gushed Agnes. “And you wanted to go” — “Oh, yes, yes,” cried Agnes; ‘I want to go ever so much,” ‘ Well,” continued he, ‘ there’s the tickets. V'll come for you at seven.” “Oh, you good, good fellow!” cried Agnes, “Tm so glad.” At that moment the father of Agnes ap- proached. Agnes skipped to her papa, and Dan skipped away. Cuaprer III, “O woman, thy name is fikility.” —MILToN, Strange as it may appear, Rupert Fromageit had taken possession of the fancy of Agnes. Itwas plain to her at a glance that he belonged to the créme de la créme of society. Often, as she had gazed upon her lovely features in the glass,she had dreamed that some day a prince would come and bear her away in a chariot. Many and many times had she and her fellow work-girls, at noon, talked (as they took their luncheon from the wrappings of story paper,) about the charming men they wished to marty. Never before had a romance come so near her. All night she tossed upon her couch, and day had just broken when she rose, Eagerly she hastened down-stairs and ‘opened her father’s copy of the Daily Bladder.” There among the personals was what she sought. It read as follows: “Allen St. Golden-haired maiden on stoop. If agreeable, gentleman with white hat would like to make acquaintance, Send word where I can see you to X.0.Z., Daily Bladder office.” Agnes sat down for a moment to still the breathing of her heart. It had come; her romance had opened; the lover for whom she had sighed was approaching, She went to her room, wrote on aslip of paper, ““ Jones's Woods, Tuesday evening,” put that slip of paper in an envelope, addressed that envelope to X. O. Z. and, as she went to her daily toil that morning, dropped the message in a post-office box. The die was cast! When in his palatial mansion on the Fifth Avenue, Rupert Fromageit read that message a second time; a smile of triumph flitted over his face. The angels, looking down, read that m ¢ with a shudder; the demons from the pit gloated over it. Alas, such is life! Cuarter IV, «+ And maiden's hearts are won by tender words.” —Drypen. Leaning on Dan's arm Agnes entered Jones’s Woods. As she approached the dancing plat- form her eyes eagerly gazed around. At the rear of the platform she saw Rupert Fromageit, and a blush suffered her cheek as her eyes fell upon him, She danced once with Dan, and then sent that unsuspicious cavalier on some trifling errand. As soon as Dan had left her, Rupert Fromageit approached, and, placing his arm around her waist, whirled her away in the mazes of the giddy waltz. That finished, they strolled away from the platform, and‘he poured in her ears dainty words and charming suggestions. How sweet were his tones! How delicate. were his expressions! She was in fairy- land. He told her how her lovely face had struck his heart, how he had yearned to see her once more, and how he had rejoiced when he saw her on the dancing-platform. She listened and believed. Time fled! “Oh,” she said with a sigh, “forgot. Take me back, please, to the platform," “But I shall see you again to-morrow ?”” “Yes, yes,” she gasped. “To-morrow evening,” he whispered, as they reached the platform, ‘‘at nine at Tomp- kins Square.” She nodded her head as she left him and ran across to Dan. Dan was scowling, but a few glances from her eyes and a few words from her lips spat him in good humor again, He worshiped the ground she trod upon! Cuapter V. “Tis but one step from happiness to shame.” —OTway. Picture to yourself Tompkins Square at nine o'clock in the evening. The millions of chil- dren, who swarm there in the daytime, had been put in their little beds, and the great Square was desolate. The stray spear of grass in the north-east corner seemed desolate and alone, The square itself-looked like a piece of Sahara planted in the midst of a great city. Rupert Fromageit paced up and down impa- tiently. As the clock of a neighboring church struck nine, Agnes approached. Her head was cast down, and she moved slowly. All day long she had thought of her engagement, and ho) had struggled with fear. It was with a throb- bing heart that she had gone to the appoint- ment. Rupert Fromageit advanced to her eagerly and spoke to her gaily. Drawing her arm in his, he moved slowly around the Square. In her ear he poured soft and waning words, and painted pictures for her of their future happi- ness, Slowly they moved to where a carriage stood. “Then you will marry me at once?” asked Agnes. Rupert Fromageit hesitated. He was tempted to say “yes;” but he had lately been badly handled in a breach of promise action, and he feared another, “Marriage, my darling,” said he, ‘‘is the weak invention of foolish people. What has that to do with happiness? We'll be happy. Come, my darling,” he added, as he threw his arm around her waist and urged her towards the carriage. “ Unhand me, ruffian!” she cried. “ Unhand me! Now I know you!” “Hadn't you better drop that woman? say!" remarked a voice Rupert Fromgeit had heard once before, “Oh Dan} Dan!” cried Agnes, as she leaned her head on his shoulder. Cuarter VI, “True hearts sre more than coronets.”" —TENnyson. It was indeed Dan. He had earned his nick- name Nip-and-Tuck because on several occa- sions he appeared just in the nick of time to aid his friends, and never had he appeared mote opportunely than on the present occasion. And yet the thing wat simple enough. By mere accident Rupert Fromageit had hired the car- riage at Dan’s stable, and Dan, recognizing him and suspecting: mischief, had’ driven the coach, Dan stood there clasping Agnes, with one hand, and with the other boldly snapping his whip. (Continued on page 330.) comicbooks.com